


hold your breath and count to ten

by homosociallyyours, rayvanfox



Series: Let the Sky Fall [1]
Category: James Bond (Movies), James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: Anger, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 18:42:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/homosociallyyours/pseuds/homosociallyyours, https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayvanfox/pseuds/rayvanfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The mission was a complete cock-up, Q left Bond's comms to deal with someone else, and Bond doesn't take it well.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hold your breath and count to ten

**Author's Note:**

> this story is late in the series but somehow ended up being published first.

Bond was furious. Had been for two days straight. He had nursed his bad temper the entire flight from Dhaka and was fuming in the cab from the airport to MI6. Just stepping into the building heightened his ire. When he burst into Q’s office he banged the door against the far wall in his fury. He practically ran up to the desk and slammed his hands onto the surface, leaning hard into Q’s personal space just to the left of the computer screen. 

“I should have you shot.” He spoke low, both in register and volume, the growl barely hidden, his hot breath brushing against Q’s cheek.   
Q pushed back from his desk, looking Bond over quickly and sighing, his exhaustion showing as he took off his glasses and pressed his palms into his eye sockets. “Christ, James. If you want to come slamming into my office you might consider sending me a bloody text letting me know you’re back first so I could be prepared. I’m sure you haven’t slept since your mission, but I haven’t either.” 

Q took his hands away from his eyes and replaced his glasses, bringing James’ face into focus. He looked as awful as Q felt, which was saying a lot. “You haven’t even been to medical yet, have you?”

“Medical? You’re worried about Medical?? The fact that I’m even alive is a complete fluke, mostly having to do with the fact that cars explode twice when you set a bomb off in them. Once with the bomb, and a second time when the gas tank goes. I can’t believe I found a way out of that bloody country, let alone one that took me to London. _Why the bloody buggering fuck did you leave me mid-mission?!?_ ” He was standing now, hands fisted at his sides, his body quivering with the strain of keeping himself from launching across the desk at Q. “You know what, never mind. I don’t want to know. I just want an apology for allowing one of your lackeys to fuck it up so royally as to leave me high and dry in the middle of the terrorists’ hideout, with half a clip of ammunition and one, _one_ of your miniature bombs.”

Q tightened his hands into fists and took a single deep breath before responding. “I’m sorry that you ended up in that situation, James, but I won’t apologize for doing my job. Do you realize that two other agents nearly died as well, and that one of them--the newest one, of course--was even closer to being caught than you were? Of course, we haven’t heard from him yet, so it’s entirely possible that he is dead, or else that he’s been captured and is being tortured at the moment.” 

Shaking his head as if to move on from the thought, Q continued, “When I left you your position seemed stable while the other agent had clearly been compromised.” He swallowed hard and looked Bond in the eyes, his anger finally spilling over the calm exterior he’d been attempting to maintain. “And if you don’t think I walked back into that room and immediately tore into the incompetent shit who screwed your bloody mission and nearly lost you, then it’s possible you don’t know anything about me at all. I would _never_ just _leave_ you alone while on a mission.”

The fire burnt right out of Bond at the mention of compromised agents, and the more Q raised his voice, the more anger he showed, the more it drained out of Bond’s body, leaving him nothing but exhausted and deeply grateful. For his life, yes, but especially for his quartermaster. He leaned forward onto the desk once more, but for support, and he brought his face close to Q’s, this time to whisper. 

“Thank you, love. I’m sorry. I had no idea. The bloody fool didn’t tell me anything.” He swayed slightly. Without the anger-induced adrenaline, he had minimal resources to keep him functional. “I should have known something went wrong. Forgive me.” He sat rigidly in the chair behind him, his face a blank mask of weariness, staring at his unsteady hands.

As Bond sat down, Q pushed himself back from his desk and went to his knees at Bond’s side. The anger that had risen inside of him was still there, but it was mixed with exhaustion and relief, enough that he could feel tears stinging at the back of his eyes. Biting his lip to keep them bay, he brushed his hand over Bond’s bruised knuckles, shaking his head as Bond winced at even his lightest touches. “I had a moment where I was sure you were gone. In the other room, after I’d left you on the comms with Richard. That’s the bastard who I demoted on the fucking spot. I--I was in the other room and things went from bad to worse, and the other agent said something that made me realize your position had changed. And I couldn’t leave, but. _I was so sure._ And I couldn’t panic or go back to you, I had to stay and get the other agent out.” Q shut his eyes for a moment and laid his head on the arm of the chair for fear of aggravating any of James’ unseen injuries. “And none of it mattered. At least not for that agent.” 

Q was silent for a while, listening to the sound of Bond’s unsteady breath and the low whirring of his computer. “Christ, James. I don’t actually know what I’d have done if you weren’t alive. If I’d actually lost you.” 

“Send me back.” He swallowed as he looked at Q, but seemed to look right through him. “If there is a compromised agent in enemy hands, you lot should never have let me leave. Send me back. How is an extraction mission not already in place? _Send me back_.” He grabbed hold of Q’s arms and pulled him to standing as he rose from his seat. “Q. I mean it. What is the matter with this department? How has this happened? Why isn’t Mallory on the warpath?” 

He shook Q once, hard, then started pacing, his anger revving back up to a fevered pitch. His gait was lopsided and he held his shoulder at an awkward angle and his breathing was ragged, but he was like a lion in a cage, the growl in the back of his throat building to a roar. 

“You left me behind enemy lines in order to help an agent that still ended up captured. You _left_ me and it didn’t help anything. And then you pulled me back here?? Q!” He turned on his lover with a face full of fury. “Don’t you _EVER_ fucking leave me again! If someone is in trouble you get me to them! I don’t care how impossible that seems, you fucking figure it out. You are a bloody genius, you can do it. And you _stick with me_ and help me fix the mess. We do that _together,_ do you hear me??” He turned away and kicked the chair he’d been sitting in. “And you don’t _EVER_ pull me out of a situation when there is someone who needs extraction!! _What the Fuck is wrong with you people?!?!_ ”

With the last of that outburst he fell to his knees in front of the chair and buried his face in the seat cushion, his hands covering his head. He tried to keep his shoulders from shaking, but he was too far gone, and in some objective part of his brain he knew the sobs that wracked him were as much to do with exhaustion as emotion.

Q had scrambled away from Bond and plastered himself to the wall of his office during the outburst, once again trying to breathe deeply and remain calm in the face of James’ rage. He had watched James pace, making note of all the injuries that were becoming more apparent with each movement the agent made. When James finally collapsed, it took Q a moment to rein in his own re-emerging anger and frustration. He spoke slowly and calmly, but with an air of authority, putting himself in the mindset of being on mission. 

“Take a deep breath, 007. Stay absolutely still and listen to me. I need you to understand this. An extraction team was sent in as soon as we realized your mission had resulted in a possible captured agent. The person I trust most on my team is currently leading the mission, and I have no doubts she will be successful, as her history is longer than mine but with a similar success rate, particularly when it comes to extractions. Continue taking deep breaths, but be cautious of breathing too deeply; you’ve either cracked or broken a rib and I can tell that your last breath hurt you.” He paused to listen intently to James’ breathing, waiting for it to even out before continuing. 

“Now. You were brought back from your mission because not only was your cover completely blown, but also you and your fellow agents were all seriously injured. I have looked over the transcripts from the comms for each agent and have already come close to completing my analysis of what went wrong. However, whatever problems we had on our end are not your concern in this matter, 007. You have not failed your mission, but your mission is complete.” 

Q swallowed hard and readied himself for the possibility that his evident calmness would only serve to aggravate James’ already frayed nerves. “All that’s left is for you to report to medical immediately for treatment of the numerous injuries you’ve sustained. Shall I escort you there?” Holding his breath, Q waited for James’ answer. 

Bond got his breathing under control and was able to assimilate all the information Q fed him as if it were through comms. Q’s apparent calmness was infectious and it felt good to be told what was going on, even to be given instructions to follow, but he’d be damned if he was going to medical in this state. He mumbled something into the cushion and when Q didn’t respond he managed to pick up his head enough to get the words out mostly intelligibly.

“Don’t make me. Please, Q. Don’t make me leave you.” 

Q scrubbed a hand through his hair and moved closer to Bond, finally kneeling down next to him before he spoke. His voice was softer and gentler, but still authoritative, hiding the mixture of fear and worry he felt at seeing James so fragile. “No, I won’t leave you. And you won’t leave me. But we have to get you taken care of. You may have some injuries that could do serious harm if they aren’t treated soon.” He leaned closer, lowering his voice as he did so. “Look at me, James. You’re going to be ok...” his voice started to rise as if he were asking a question, and he tried to modulate it before James could catch the nervousness he felt. 

“Only if we can stay right here.” He’d turned to look at Q when he’d been told to, but now he rested the side of his face on the cushion and reached to pull Q around his back. “Just...be here. I promise it won’t hurt me. Like this.” He nudged Q so that he was kneeling directly behind himself, then pulled his body flush against Bond’s back. “Bring your arms up here on the seat, with mine.” He twitched only very slightly at the contact, and at the same time allowed a deep rumble come up from his diaphragm, like a low purr. “Don’t be so timid, it doesn’t hurt, honestly. Just cover me.” He sighed when Q’s arms slipped over his own on either side of his head. “I’ll go quietly in 10 minutes, even let them stitch me up, if you won’t move a muscle until then.” His voice lost breath support and went drowsy. “Maybe 15. After a nap.” 

“A 15 minute nap, then medical,” Q agreed as he settled against Bond. The warmth of their contact felt almost as soothing as curling up in bed might, and it was that thought that allowed Q to truly relax into the sensation of his own body covering Bond’s. He breathed in the scent of Bond’s hair, which still smelled of smoke and blood and sweat and dust, and the softer tones of his skin that even the worst missions couldn’t seem to hide. “I’m so glad you’re back home, James,” Q said as softly as he could. 

“Me too. Back to you. Can’t do it without you anymore...mission falls apart...I can’t even make myself go home if you’re not there. Do you know how fucking terrifying that is?” He shifted restively but when Q moved away slightly, he jolted and pulled him back into place before continuing. “I don’t want to need you this much, Q. It’s dangerous. Can’t be helped though. Too old to change. Too tired...So tired.” He had been speaking as if half asleep, his face half in the cushion, but roused himself for a moment more. “Don’t move when I nod off, all right? I’ll wake badly...unsafe...draw my gun...not that it’s got any bullets...” He huffed in amusement and the next breath was slow and not too deep. By the next one, he was asleep. 

Q didn’t risk saying any words, and when one of his team came to his door he shot a look so fierce that the interloper immediately nodded his head once and closed the door quietly behind him on the way out. Everything pertinent could be addressed over email, and Q was sure his inbox would be brimming with mail regardless of how he spent the next hour, so he fit himself even more tightly to Bond and focused on the sound of Bond’s breathing and the thrumming of his own heart against Bond’s back. He didn’t want to need anyone this much, either, but caring for James felt right. Inevitable. Home. Q closed his eyes and let sleep take him as well. 

Bond dreamt of a firefight that threatened to swallow him whole, but Q was in his ear and he was in a safe position, backed up against something sturdy, and there was no sense of dread, only the thrill of a mission that could, if they kept their heads together, be accomplished. It was the most pleasant dream he’d had in a very long time.


End file.
